


Tradition

by tothestarswholisten



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Traditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 22:51:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15205232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tothestarswholisten/pseuds/tothestarswholisten
Summary: Based off a prompt I saw on Tumblr of asking to see the history behind the tradition of the boys and steaming together during Solstice.Disclaimer: I don't own ACOTAR





	Tradition

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a one shot i saw and liked the idea behind of

Here we were, after another grueling fight that yet again Azriel won. Cassian and I couldn't help but bury him in a few feet of snow when Feyre and Mor announced he had won. So here we sat, in the steamer like any other year since we were children.

I looked at my brothers in arms, and my brothers in another context, and smiled. "We made it." I said quietly, both men knew what I was referring to.

Azriel nodded sagely, never being one to speak unless he needed to even after we were in Velaris. Our city of starlight. Ours. We had fought to protect our home this past year and we were still fighting. Every day we made great strides, but sometimes it wasn't enough.

Cassian grinned like a fool for a moment and then turned serious. "Bastard born Illyrians and a High Lord's son. Who'd have ever thought we'd be here?"

I knew what Cass meant, who'd ever thought we'd be alive? Certainly none of the camp Lords. They treated the three of us probably the worst of anyone in the camp, and the other kids in our class well. That was another memory to think of at a later time. 

For now it was time to sit and enjoy a steam with my brothers. That is until Azriel spoke up, "Do you guys remember our first year doing this?"

Cassian smirked. "We were pups when we made this tradition. Who doesn't remember it?"

I had to agree with him, we were pups at the time. The three of us, two bastards and a High Lord's son, had seen every other boy in the camp gearing up for what seemed like war. When I had asked about it to a group of the boys one of them had snickered. "Rhysand this is a tradition dating back to when Illyrians first inhabited these mountains. We fight to exhaustion in castles of snow and ice. The victor gets bragging rights for a year."

I remember my words after his, remember the fat lip I got too when I said, "So the brave Illyrian warriors have a snowball fight?"

Cassian and Azriel had hauled me off to my mother's cabin after that. So while I iced my mouth Cassian had run off to the sitting room. When he returned he had an elaborately drawn diagram. "What's this?" Az had questioned.

"It's our snowball fight." Cassian said smugly. 

I looked at him dumbfounded, "What are you talking about?"

Cass huffed, "You know they won't let the three of us join with them. So why not make our own game? One man teams. We'll scout for a good location and make our own tradition."

I hated to admit it but Cassian had a point. They wouldn't allow us to join their tradition so we had to make our own. "I'm in. What about you Az?"

I looked to the shadowsinger to see him already studying a map of the Illyrian mountains. "Here," he pointed at them map, "is where we are. And here," he moved his fingers slightly, "is where our tradition shall be born."

Over the next few days we gathered our supplies for the day of reckoning. A huge snow and ice storm had blown in the night we decided to do this, cancelling training for a few days. Though that didn't stop many of us from getting in the sparring ring and beating each other up.

My mother to her credit let her three boys do what we wanted in her house. Though that morning at first light the three of us set out to start our new family tradition but she stopped us before we got to the front door.

"I don't know where you three are going or what you intend to do. All I ask is that you are safe and you come back to me." My mother ruffled each of our heads and sent us on our way with a package of snacks for the day and a promise of a hot meal for when we came home. 

It was a long three mile hike to where our shadowsinger had deemed a good spot to build our snow fortresses.

Once we each chose a landmark to plant ourselves the fight ensued. No time outs, no surrendering. Most importantly though no magic. 

It lasted seven hours. Azriel was determined as the victor as Cassian had missed the last aim he took and both Az and myself. Unknown to us my mother was there the entire time. Cloaked in a darkness none of us had felt. She only revealed herself when we started gathering ourselves to go home. She scared us so bad my wings had come out as did Cassian's and Azriel produced a small but finely sharpened knife and was aimed to strike. 

We grinned sheepishly and lowered our weapons or in mine and Cassian's cases our wings. "Sorry mom." I said apologetically. Azriel and Cassian parroted my apology.

She had just laughed and told us to gather our things, that it was time for dinner and because it was Solstice, it was time for presents.

"I miss your mom." Cassian said fondly.

"We all do Rhys." Azriel said gently, seeing the look in my eyes.

I nodded, remembering my mother on one of her favorite holidays. And coincidentally, my wife's birthday 

"She'd have liked Feyre." I said to no one in particular.

"She'd have loved Feyre, there's a difference." Cassian nodded in agreement. 

Thinking of my wife I sent a tug down our bond, a simple 'I love you'.

I received a simple yet strong reply back, 'I love you too'.

We finished our steam an hour later and gathered our things to head home to Velaris. We'd be back next year, and who knew. Maybe in a few years Cassian, Azriel and I would have new Illyrian warriors joining our snowball fight.


End file.
